


Jersey

by strawberrylambda



Series: If You Dare [1]
Category: Handsome Devil (2016)
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Love Confessions, M/M, Mild Smut, Pining, Post-Canon, Sharing Clothes, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-11
Updated: 2018-03-11
Packaged: 2019-03-29 10:19:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13925088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawberrylambda/pseuds/strawberrylambda
Summary: The L word.Laundry.-Ned / Conor clothes-sharing fic. Rated M for language and mild sexual themes.





	Jersey

**Author's Note:**

> oof im angry abt that ending
> 
> its totally chill that two gay people can be friends and not involved but that was so much romantic build up for nothing *sips tea*

It started out with really small things. Belts, ties, even a dress shirt now and then. Conor didn't mind, it was never anything he missed or needed, and even though it might've been a bit too baggy for Ned or made him look smaller than he already was, Ned was glad he could avoid doing laundry, even if only for an extra day. 

Now, Ned _did_ clean his clothes, it's not like he didn't understand the importance of basic hygiene. Beforehand, he'd argue he was a bit obsessive about organizing and cleaning things. Then Conor showed up and messed up his life and he messed up his and it was one of those messes that Ned left alone after he made it. 

Once it was a T-shirt, a completely benign gray T-shirt that Conor wore on weekends, and when he asked Ned where it had went, he said it ended up in his laundry and he was washing it. Conor shrugged it off and grabbed a different shirt. 

Later, it was Conor's favorite black hoodie. 

The older simply snickered and tossed aside his bag onto his bed. He examined Ned across the room, writing away and looking all too snug and warm in Conor's hoodie. It was far too big for him, the way it slumped down his wrists and a bit off his shoulder. 

"I was cold and all of my pullovers are in the wash." Ned muttered, not even bothering to look up from his notebook, yet Conor detected a very small hint of a smile. 

At one point, Conor even tried to wear Ned's brown fleece-lined leather coat, and while it was a tad too short around the waist and tight against his athletic body, it was an interesting experiment nonetheless and Conor finally understood why Ned was always so adamant on putting laundry off until he had to. 

Friend's shared clothes all the time, Conor had done it before and so had Ned, but ever since that match about a half a month ago, sharing clothes with your roommate felt infinitely more intense than it should have for the two.

-

Ned held onto Conor's hoodie as long as he could until it stopped smelling and feeling like him and he eventually had to toss it into the wash with everything else he had "borrowed" from the rugby player, who was fully aware of Ned's kleptomaniac tendencies towards his clothing, but feigned ignorance just to see how far he'd take it.

The answer suprised Conor. Because Ned took it far. Very, very far. 

Conor wasn't a jealous person, and certainly never felt possesive about anything, let alone another human being- yet having Ned simply _around_ in his clothes, like a big sign that read **Conor** on his back made his heart swell with pride and... something else. Infatuation? Lust? ... _Love?_ That last one made Conor's heart incredibly nervous.

He already knew he loved Ned, that much was obvious. It was a matter of _how_ that was was the issue that arised. _Wait, he loved Ned?_

_Ah, fuck._

-

Ned hated laundry, but not as much as he liked being enveloped in Conor's warmth and scent. Specifically when Conor was gone for a long time, when Ned didn't hear him humming along to music or even being obnoxious about push-ups or crunches. This way, he always had a little part of him that could stay here. A little "suitcase incident" left Ned with Conor's black hoodie over spring break with his parents in Dubai, to which he told his dad this was a new one he had bought, and not his roommate's that he might've borrowed (without asking). 

This continued on all the way to the end of the semester, and neither had the balls to address it directly. Not that it was necessarily an issue, persay, but the tension was palpable and both parties couldn't take much more of this.

If there was a definitive breaking point, it was Conor's second jersey. 

Generally it was for training and not for games, which meant it got a lot more use than usual, and after not being able to find it, Conor ended up wearing a game jersey, much to the team's confusion. 

Conor didn't even consider Ned had taken it; he never touched his sports clothes before. He assumed that Ned didn't want to smell like teenage boy sweat and grass stains, which made a lot of sense to the older. 

So to come back after practice to find Ned, sound asleep in his favorite practice jersey, marked with his number, Conor couldn't contain his affection for the redhead. 

It was far too big, big enough to cover just the edges of Ned's gray boxer-briefs, as he snoozed contently, wrapped in Conor's presence. 

Conor wanted to say it, so badly, and he knew Ned wouldn't hear him. That was the best part. He could say it and then decide if that's what he meant and there would be no repercussions. 

Conor took a deep breath, hands falling to his sides, before clasping them together in a very matter-of-fact manner. 

"I love you." It was a whisper, and Ned didn't stir. Once the words left his mouth, he knew he meant it, and that was definitely the truth.

"I, love you, Ned." He muttered again, raising in volume and confidence. Still asleep.

"I love you, I'm so in love with you." He turned to pace around the room. "I love you. I love you." He took a deep breath. _Man, that felt good._

Conor whirled around from his bed to find Ned, propped up on an elbow, sleepy but very much awake. All of the color drained from the athlete's face, his mouth opened to speak but he could only manage a pathetic sounding squeak.

"Wow Conor, I heard you the first sixteen times." Ned smirked. Conor scoffed. 

_Bastard._ He thought.

"You're wearing my jersey. I was looking for that all evening, asshole." Conor grinned, folding his arms. Now it was Ned's turn to blush, as if he had forgotten he was wearing it. He looked down at himself, stammering out another excuse about laundry, but Conor cut him off with a laugh.

The older boy nudged himself onto the bed, as Ned pulled himself back, his heart pounding a mile a minute. 

"I- I'm wearing it because it, y'know. It... smells nice and reminds me of you- and I..." Ned began, voice quivering. "'Cause I... love you...too." It came out with a nervous laugh, but it if anything it made it even more genuine. 

Conor's expression was filled with so much love and admiration, Ned thought he would melt in that very moment. 

"I uh, I steal your clothes because I love you...?" 

Conor pushed the younger back down into the bed, swinging a leg over to keep him in place. His expression shifted from soft and gentle to something completely different. Ned swallowed hard. _Oh god, this was actually happening._

The light from Ned's desk lamp barely illuminated Conor's face, shining across all of his perfect (and Ned's favorite) features. The older bit the inside of his lip, pupils blown and his chest heavy. 

Ned fidgeted underneath Conor, not out of desire to escape, but impatience because there was no way he was making the first move. Luckily, he didn't have to wait long until Conor was leaning in and pressing a gentle kiss to his lips, slow and sensual, before Ned wrapped his arms around Conor's neck, pulling him in deeper. 

Conor stifled a moan, before pulling away, to Ned's disdain. The older slid a hand gently up the smaller boy's form, watching the jersey ride up as well, and that one very small possesive part of Conor's mind was driven up the wall. Ned was simply panting, splayed out below him, too shaken to say anything. 

"You look good in it." Conor mused, tracing light forms across Ned's skin. Ned tried to speak again, but the words were lost in the air, right where Conor laid above him. 

The athlete's eyebrows furrowed together, leaning back. "Something wrong?" He worried. Ned suddenly brought himself back to Earth and shook himself up onto his elbows. 

"No! No, god nothing's wrong, it's just-" Ned swallowed again, locking eyes with his roommate. "Everytime I... look at you. I forget everything I was going to say. I just think about...uh, nothing, actually. Just you. I only really think, _wow._ " Ned laughed and ran a hand through his messy red hair. Conor was completely enthralled by his words, heart welling up with emotions again. 

"Conor?" 

Ned couldn't finish his queue because he was being pushed back down into the mattress and Conor was attacking his mouth once more- then his neck, then his collarbones, and Ned gripped onto the older boy as desperately as he could.

Conor stripped himself of his game shirt and _yeah, this was actually happening. Shit._

Ned marveled at the tones and light across Conor's skin, all muscles and forms and Ned knew he was way too far gone now. Conor couldn't help but smile, because yeah, he could be a cocky bastard when he tried. 

The brunette continued to run his hands all across Ned, the younger trying to keep his volume to a minimum, because that really would be the death of him if someone heard this. Soon, Conor's sweats came off and he nudged a knee inbetween Ned's legs, nestling himself in a comfortable groove to continue kissing the redhead.

Ned dragged his nails across Conor's arms, biceps strong and comforting, and Ned mentally scolded himself for even thinking that ridiculous comment. 

A particularly rough nip of teeth on Ned's neck made him flinch with pleasure and he strained to not make any noise. Conor breathed heavily into his neck, grinding himself into the younger, earning a whimper in satisfaction, lifting his hips to match the sensation, feeling the heat build even more, and he could feel that Conor wanted this too. 

Ned reached to pull the cloth off himself, but found his hands stopped. 

"Uh..." Conor started, and even though he couldn't say it, Ned knew exactly what he wanted. 

_Keep it on._

_Ohh man, this goddamned rugby player of all things will be the death of me._

-

The light barely crept through the blinds, and Ned felt the cold cover the parts of him that the covers didn't conceal. He reached out in his pathetically small twin-sized bed, and wasn't shocked to find an empty space. He propped himself up, finding a note stuck on the bed frame, above the offensive empty space. He ached slightly as he reached over to grab it (which was a whole other embarassment to begin with), and rubbed his eyes to read the scrawled print, signed with a heart. With a smile and an eyeroll, Ned read the note. 

_Doing laundry. -C_

**Author's Note:**

> i wanted to get this to 2k but im tired so maybe next time oops


End file.
